


Domination's the Name of the Game

by killewich, pseudobulbarism (killewich)



Series: You Won't Be Kissing Me Unless You Kill for Me [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Behavior, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, ZsaszMask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killewich/pseuds/killewich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/killewich/pseuds/pseudobulbarism
Summary: " You treat me like a dog, get me down on my knees. "
Relationships: Black Mask/Victor Zsasz, Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Series: You Won't Be Kissing Me Unless You Kill for Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626697
Comments: 34
Kudos: 342





	Domination's the Name of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> CAN'T STOP, WON'T STOP
> 
> original prompt from Whoevenisshe was zsasz calming down roman but what calms someone down better than a blowjob :^)
> 
> i haven't wrote porn in a while but it's a crime there isn't any of them yet so i had to U_U

The sound of broken glass rouses Zsasz from his phone, and he's already headed for the source of the sound before the yelling accompanies it. Worry floods his system as he seeks it out, finding the boss in his bedroom. He's sure to remain quiet as he enters, assessing the situation before making his presence known, just in case.

Roman had broken a mirror, fist having pounded against it most likely, shards coating the vanity and floor below it. He's on about some business deal, one that apparently hadn't gone his way.

Zsasz sees blood, and knows he needs to intervene. It's times like these he doesn't wait for permission or commands, it the rare instance he was let off the leash. He cuts the distance between them, careful to not wound the other's ego in any way during an episode. Before he reaches the other, who's knocking items off the dressing table and carrying on, not even having noticed the company, he softly calls the man's name to alert him he was there.

The crime lord whips around, eyes a dead giveaway he was still lost in his tantrum, not even registering his right hand man. He swings, chest heaving.

Victor catches the first, and then the one that follows it. He holds tight, face set. A socked foot hits his leg, but it doesn't have the same energy behind it as the punches; Roman was beginning to sober up.

Ragged breaths are the only noise between them.

Zsasz waits until the breathing slows into a bit of a more normal pace, releasing the hands he knows won't lash out anymore. He gently holds onto the taller's shoulders, thumbs kneading in a pattern they're both well acquainted with by now. He hums softly, eyes darting off to the side to register the damage done.

Thankfully, past the mirror and some various broken bottles, it's not much. He'd gotten here before it'd escalated further.

"God- _ fucking _ -dammit," Roman hisses, still irate, but at a workable level.

Hands slide down from shoulders to arms, squeezing softly. His eyes look for his boss's, and eventually they meet.

"Your hand," Zsasz comments, concerned.

"It's  _ fine _ ," comes the grit out response. The fist in question is not horribly damaged, just a few bloodied knuckles from all he can tell.

It's enough for the shorter to still fret. Despite the dismissive comment, he knows better. He waits several moments before both of his hands turning their attention to the arm that belonged to the injured hand. He moves slowly, carefully, guiding it up into his vision.

There's a shard of glass still in one of the bloodied knuckles, it the only one busted. The rest would be fine, and would heal on their own.

Victor glances to the bed, then back to Roman's face. He gently guides him by the hand to the edge of it, and the other seats himself with a huff. Before releasing the injured hand, Zsasz steals a quick kiss to the back of it. Then, he's off to grab a med kit that's thankfully close by.

When he returns, he sets the small box on the bed next to the crime lord. He opens it, readying the supplies needed.

Roman's eerily quiet, simply watching.

The henchman grabs the pair of pliers first, silence falling between them as he works. Shard removed, he grabs a small disinfectant wipe, the utmost care used to dab at it. There's no reaction, so he moves to grab a gauze patch to continue treating the wound.

Without warning, Zsasz feels the nape of his neck clawed into. He stills immediately, dropping everything in his hands back into the kit.

"On your knees."

The underling obeys, waiting for the next command.

"Look at me."

His head comes out of the bow he'd been forced into after the hand recoils.

Roman presents his fist, face unreadable.

Zsasz focuses on it, breath low and steady.

"Lick," he murmurs, seemingly back to his senses by now.

The command stirs something in the mercenary. He does as he's told, starting with the least injured one. He laps up the blood, hovering over the one he'd just been treating. Waiting a beat, he kisses it, soft and slow, eyes closing.

Roman groans softly, pressing his hand up into the feeling.

Victor continues, tongue flickering over the wound. He's strays from it to clean up all the blood he'd neglected, then presses the tip into the injury.

" _ Fuck _ , stop."

He obliges, head slowly raising.

As soon as it's high enough, both hands from above him push his face into an already half-hard crotch. The sound he makes is muffled, but it's hot against the silken, growing erection. His eyes close as his face is pressed in harder, feeling clothed hips lift to grind against his face. Zsasz moves his hands to grip onto thighs on either side of him, holding tight.

Roman exhales loudly through his nostrils, "Mouth." His hold relents, just enough to accommodate the command.

The henchman is more than happy to follow through, mouthing the cock through fabric. His tongue runs the length of it as it twitches into life, rewarded with a quiet moan of approval. His mouth returns to exhale a hot breath into the bulge, brain clouding over, heat pooling in his stomach. The thought alone of pleasuring his boss was enough for him, the sounds just a bonus.

He's tugged back, his nape again abused in the process. Roman shifts to tug the band of his pants down, enough to let himself out. Zsasz eyes the cock adoringly, more than acquainted.

"Open."

Victor swallows thickly before doing so, gaze flickering up to catch blown pupils. There's a beat, and he knows by now what to expect, readying himself.

And then, he's shoved down, mouth soon full. He maintains eye contact as best as he can, well trained by now.

"Suck."

He didn't even need the command, but knew best to wait until told. He hums softly around it, then complies. He slowly works into a rhythm of bobbing his head once he feels a hand move to the back of his head, nails trying to find some sort of purchase in his silver hair. With each rise, he twirls his tongue around the tip, only to fall back down, edging himself further onto the cock with each pass.

" _ Fuck _ , Zsasz," Roman praises openly, his uninjured hand holding him up on the bed as he arches his hips up into the slow pattern. "Stop fucking teasing."

He repositions himself, moving into an angle to better accommodate what he can only assume would come next.

Sure enough, he's pushed down as far as he can manage to go, throat filled.

The sound his boss makes is enough to almost make him cum on the spot. Gooseflesh spreads across his bare arms, moaning a muted sound around the fullness in his mouth.

Roman starts fucking his face, there little mercy to his haphazard pattern.

Zsasz wouldn't have it any other way.

"You,  _ hhh _ ... you wanna touch yourself,  _ mm _ ?"

He does.

"Bet you're real hard, yeah? You like this more than I do."

_ God _ , does he.

"Get me to cum and I'll let you," he purrs, letting go of his head, leaving Zsasz back to his own devices.

With renewed vigor, he bobs his head to a much faster pace now, pulling off with a lewd ' _ pop _ .' Before there's any protest, his hand grabs the base, his tongue running along the underside. The man above him shudders, huffing. He starts moving his hand, mouth returning, lips meeting his fist with each pass. He applies the amount of pressure he knows that's just right, jerking as he went back to teasing the sensitive tip. He flicks over the slit that leaks precum, unable to keep back the groan that slips out.

He's so fucking hard and needy, and he hadn't even been stimulated at all past commands.

His administrations get a bit sloppier, less controlled, brain mush as he continues, only guided by the sounds from above. His hand moves down to massage his boss's balls, knowing he was close. Cock throbbing in his mouth, his other hand pumps, keeping up a pattern as fast as he can to the keening noises that let him know he's almost there. He sucks hard around the tip, tongue swirling, fist and hand still working, and, finally, he hears a long moan that's his only warning.

A hand returns to the back of his head, shoving his face down, and he removes his hand quickly, nose meeting skin as his throat's filled with the hot release. Instinctive tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the deep intrusion. He swallows around it, and the hypersensitive body it belongs to jerks with a curse. The hand slides lifelessly off to the side, and Zsasz slowly pulls back, sure to milk every last drop. His tongue runs over the tip, cleaning it all up and swallows finally.

"Good boy..." Roman breathes, falling back onto the bed. "Take care of yourself then tend to my hand."

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed it ! ! still takin' prompts, but i think i'm gonna take a lil' breather for the day xD that's 3 fics in one day............ ur welcome U_U <3
> 
> hmu on twitter i wanna talk abt these idiots: https://twitter.com/pseudobulbarism


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